Crown of Vengeance (Dragon Prophecy) by James Mallory Mercedes Lackey Page B

and oil lanterns. Vieliessar ate until she was full to bursting, only to discover there was more to come.
    A cheer went up as Morgaenel and Duirilthel entered with a tray so large it took both of them to carry it. Upon that tray was something large and round and white.
    “The luck! The luck of the year!” Several of those present raised their cups in a toast.
    “What is it?” Vieliessar asked in confusion, for the sweet-course had been upon the table for half the night.
    “Ah, I had forgotten you would not know the custom,” Maeredhiel said. “It is not kept in the castels, for it would not serve for any but the War Prince to receive the luck.”
    “What luck?” Vieliessar demanded, but Maeredhiel was already leading her to where a space had been cleared upon one of the tables for the cake.
    “Who is the youngest here?” Duirilthel asked, waving a cutting knife. “Is it Celeth? Lelras? Nidos? No! I think it must be Vielle!” He swept her a flourishing bow and presented her with the knife.
    “You must cut the cake now, and be sure everyone gets a piece,” Maeredhiel said. “And save yourself one as well.”
    The cake was heavy, filled with fruits and honey and cased in a thick sugar icing, but at last everyone had been served and all that remained upon the tray was crumbs.
    “I told you to save yourself some,” Maeredhiel said, holding out a napkin-wrapped piece. Vieliessar could smell the spices as she lifted it to her lips. The morsel was only a bite or two, for the cake, though large, had needed to serve many—and Vielle popped it into her mouth unthinkingly. A moment later her teeth closed upon something hard. She made a noise of dismay and spat whatever it was into her hand.
    On her palm rested a tiny silver disk with a rearing Unicorn stamped upon it.
    “I told you the one who received the silver luck-charm in their portion would gain fortune in the coming year,” Maeredhiel said. “And see? It is you.”
    Much fortune Farcarinon has gotten from the Unicorn thus far, Vieliessar thought sourly. For it was the Unicorn Throne that destroyed us.
    But it was a pretty thing nonetheless, so she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. Perhaps later she could find a way to braid it into her hair.
    The rich food made her sleepy, and it was not very long before she took her leave, for tomorrow would again be a day of labor. But despite everything, the secret Festival seemed to promise that her strange new life need not be one of everlasting penance. As she walked to her sleeping chamber, she wondered how many of the doors around her concealed empty beds whose inhabitants kept revel at Rosemoss Farm.
    Less than a mile from where I stand, and it might be at the far side of the Arzhana … But tonight, even thoughts of her demi-imprisonment failed to dampen her optimistic mood.
    She opened the door to her sleeping chamber. It was winter-cold, especially in contrast to the warm hall she’d just left, and she shivered as she crossed to the brazier. She kept a small bowl of embers on her windowsill, for true fire was something not much used in the Sanctuary and she had little patience with flint and steel. But tonight, the embers husbanded from the previous night’s coals had gone out.
    The brazier full of unkindled charcoals seemed to mock her, and she unconsciously stretched her fingers out toward it in the gesture she had seen so many times from one of the Lightborn. Fire, Maeredhiel had often said, was the first and simplest spell …
    What am I doing? Vieliessar withdrew her hand as quickly as if she’d been burned and turned to collect flint and steel. After a frustrating series of attempts, she managed to strike sparks to the bed of tinder beneath the coals, and the flames licked upward. Once warmth began to radiate through the room, she changed for bed.
    As she sat brushing out and rebraiding her hair, she realized that it was nearly two years since she had come to the Sanctuary of the Star. She could no